With the support of his legal aid, Ben explained what had happened yesterday. He poured his heart over the table. His pleading hands shook with each admission of guilt and his eyes welled. Sebastian nodded along and whispered how an answer should be phrased and the officers seemingly acknowledged the carefully crafted yet honest responses.
“We shall be back in a moment, Mr Yeoman.”
The officers left Ben and Sebastian in the interrogation room.
“What do you think, Sebastian?” Ben spook in weary, hushed tones.
The solicitor inclined his head to the side and toward Ben to reply, “Well they have an admission of guilt, Mr Blakely will have also contacted them I imagine.”
“What will he say? Can he do anything?”
Sebastian smiled, “He will re-enforce the story surrounding your predicament. He can do more than you might think.”
“Wow, how does he have so much time, he must be helping so many people.”
Sebastian paused thoughtfully, “He’s quite inspirational, never met a man with that kind of work ethic.”
Ben nodded quickly. “Am I getting home tonight?”
“That’s the goal.”
Sebastian left after twenty minutes to fetch some food and drinks, leaving Ben with his thoughts again. It felt good to have gotten through the interrogation, though he was furious at the circumstances. Joking into some voice-activated search engine was enough to have him dragged out in cuffs.
Sebastian returned with some pre-packed sandwiches and a bottle of apple juice. Ben showed his gratitude by devouring the prawn-mayo triangles.
“They can be a little lax with their hospitality here.”
“You’re telling me.”
The police continued to proceed at their own pace. Ben raised in his seat every time a shadow crossed the small square window at the top of the door, hopeful they would come in and say everything’s cleared up and he was free to go.
It had gone dark outside, Ben’s day had been stolen from him. He didn’t speak to Sebastian while they waited. He’d had enough of talking, the emotional stress had dragged him into a catatonic state. He was too anxious to sleep but too tired to engage with anything, even his thoughts.
The door clicked open. Ben sat up straight.
“Sorry for the wait there Mr Yeoman.”
Ben nodded at the officer, only one had returned. He placed a small stack of papers on the table and sat across the table from them. “Been through the wringer haven’t you?”
Ben’s voice had crumbled to a croak. “Yeah, I’d say.” Ben nodded and sighed.
Sebastian smiled at Ben.
The officer smirked. “Well, I have an outcome for us here, one that’d avoid any further court proceedings.”
Ben smiled wide as the officer's words energised him.
“Your actions have raised concern. We have here an admittance of low-level intent and a plead of guilty under a breach of the communications act.”
Ben looked at Sebastian who had placed a hand on his forearm. He gave an approving look.
“What’s that mean?”
“If you sign this, Mr Yeoman, you’ll be placed on a watch list for five years and you’ll also be fined two thousand pounds, payable by way of payment plan.”
“I can’t afford that for fuck’s sake…”
Sebastian calmed Ben with a few soft pats.
“Mr Yeoman, I’m not here to discuss your finances. If you sign these documents you’ll be on your way. If not we can bring it before a judge and you’ll risk imprisonment.”
“But–”
“I’ll leave you to decide.” The officer stood up. He seemed rather irked at the whole thing as if the deal was not something he’d normally offer. He left Ben in the room with Sebastian once more.
“I should fight this in court.”
“You’ll lose, Ben.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “One hundred per cent?”
“Close enough. This is a good deal.”
“I can’t afford the fine, and what does being on this list mean?”
“It means you’ll be under surveillance and if you breach the order you’ll be straight to prison.”
“Over a joke.”
“That little outburst over the phone was a perfect set-up, unfortunately, Benjamin.”
Ben nodded and looked at the declarations. The stapled stack had little yellow tabs denoting where he’d need to put his autograph. “Right, I’d better sign it…”
“It’s for the best, Benjamin.”
Ben shook his head as he went through the pages one by one, glossing over the text and signing away. He didn’t care at this point, he just wanted to go home and forget everything.
Once signed the release process was rapid. They couldn’t wait to shuffle him out the door. Sebastian shook Ben’s hand and left sharpish.
Ben was left outside in the cool evening air with his phone and Abi unit in a bag. He had no car or money for a taxi. This didn’t bother him so much as he could do getting aired out. As he trotted home his phone buzzed. It was David.
“Hi, Dave.”
“Evening, Benjamin.” David’s voice never wavered from that bubbly happiness. “Sebastian updated me, all free to go and such.”
“Yeah, with more money to pay out.” Ben sighed. “At this rate, I may as well go to prison.”
“Well, you’re out for now.”
Ben nodded, “Sorry I didn’t want to sound ungrateful there. Thank you for your help.”
“That’s not a problem, Ben.”
“It’s just so frustrating, you know? Over a little bloody joke.”
“You need to take responsibility, Benjamin.” Dave’s tone had become earnest and his voice gave way to a business side he’d not demonstrated before.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“I know–”
“Your actions have consequences, Benjamin. We shall speak soon regarding your financial circumstances.”
“Right, yeah…” Ben scratched the back of his neck. “I just–”
Dave hung up.
This was the first Ben was left with a sense of unease after speaking to Dave, he’d only spoken a couple of times prior but there was something different this time. Ben thought about what Dave said, but it was impossible to overcome the violation of the secret recording and tale-telling his personal robot assistant had conducted. He was sent into a swirling vortex of paranoia; what other things had the assistant recorded? Did they have access to them all?
Dave didn’t see anyone on his way home, not even a dog walker or a crackhead. It reminded him of one of those apocalypse-type movies where everyone was dead. “I’M THE OMEGA MAN!” Benjamin chuckled as he listened to his voice echo through the street. He was pleased he’d set a dog barking at least.
Ben was pleased to see his house. He was ready for bed. He made for his door but kicked something and fell over on his palms. “Ahhh, fucking hell!” Ben struggled as he was lying on something square and heavy. “What kind of fuckin’ arse bandit, twat, cunt leaves a fuckin’” He rolled off the box and got to his knees. His door light flicked on and revealed the plasticated tub. On the top was a piece of paper taped on, it said: For care of Benjamin Yeoman. “Oh…what is this?”
Ben carried the box into his house and set it on the kitchen table. “Abi, turn the lights on.” Nothing happened. “Oh yeah.” He lifted the plastic bag containing his Abi unit. Gently, he set the bag down on top of the mystery box and manually switched his lights on. He’d almost forgotten where the switches were.
The house lit up room by room, revealing the horror. The police officers had turned his belongings upside down. His drawers were open and their contents were scattered on the floor. “Bastards.” He kicked at the packet of unopened candles by the small drawer in his living room. “I should light one of these, I bet candles don’t spy on me.”
He returned to the kitchen and took the bag containing Abi, he placed it on the glass chopping board before fetching his hammer from the toolbox in the pantry, which had been conveniently emptied on the floor.
“Abi, die you double-crossing whore.” Ben did a fake maniacal laugh as she struck the bag and smashed the unit into pieces. His frustrations became untameable and his hammer blows strengthened. The shattering of the chopping board snapped him out of his rage. “Fuckin’ robot bitch.”
Ben turned his attention to the plastic box. “See what Santa brought.” He took the box into the living room and placed it between his feet as he sat on the couch. He prised the lid off and tossed it to one side. “Merry Christmas me.”
The box contained an assortment of goods, name-branded food and cleaning products. There was at least two hundred pounds worth of shopping in here. “Nice…” Ben lifted out a cooler block from the bottom and his breath caught short at what was underneath. Between the cartons of milk and assorted vegetables was a packet of eight bacon rashers. “Bacon.” He looked at the kitchen where Abi’s corpse lay shattered. “Did you tell them I wanted, Bacon?”
Ben walked into the kitchen and leaned over the broken mess. “Well?” he roared. “Did you fucking tell them?” He picked the hammer up and went into a flurry of rage, smashing Abi, the table and one of his cabinet doors. He stumbled back and slumped against the kitchen cabinet with his head in his hands.
Ben wallowed for ten minutes. He wanted to go to sleep but something drove him to tidy up the mess he’d made. He scraped the remains of the chopping board and Abi with the inside of his forearm into a bin bag.
He traipsed through his backyard toward his wheelie bin.
“Alright, Ben…”
Ben looked around, seeing Steve’s fluster of ginger curls bouncing above his wall. “Hi, Ste.”
“You alright? Heard a bunch of bashing.”
“Fine, just dropped something.”
“Dropped it twenty times did you?” Ste let out a chuckle.
Ben dropped the bag in the wheelie bin, causing a loud clatter before letting the lid slam shut.
“So eh, big kerfuffle this morning with the police, eh?”
Ben made his way towards his back door.
“Didn’t know if you would be back.”
Ben stopped, turned and marched towards the wall. “Back from where?”
“Well…wherever the police took you.”
“Ah, do you wanna know why they took me in?”
Ste’s eyes darted left and right, “Hah, oh, I don’t mind.”
“Sure you do.”
“Nah, just wanted to make sure you were ok.” Ste cleared his throat.
“Oh, yeah? That’d be a first.”
“Well–”
“Why don’t you mind your own fuckin’ business? You silly ginger twat.”
Ste’s head lowered.
Ben sneered as he walked back into his house, he made a show of slamming the door behind him. He felt a pang of guilt for speaking to Ste like that, he remembered how he helped him fix his gutters last summer.
Overcome with fatigue, Ben crawled up the stairs and into his upturned bed. He passed out and awoke the next morning at around nine. He felt for his alarm clock but it wasn’t there. “Ugh.”
Ben was dreading work tomorrow, having to deal with customers and that smarmy bastard, Pete. He wondered how he could stop himself from lashing out. Part of him wanted to throw in the towel. Quit work, go on the social and spend the rest of his life in a one-bedroom flat with his curtains drawn until he dies. The neighbours wouldn’t know until he started to stink out the block. “Yeah, that’s the way to go.” Ben chuckled to himself.
He made himself a cup of tea and a sandwich with his consolation bacon from the SS9 care box. “Eating like a king.” Ben smiled and wandered into his messy living room. “Abi turn on the Tele.” The TV didn’t respond.
“Oh yeah.” He looked around for the remote, something which he hadn’t seen since he bought the thing. “Fuck it.” Giving up he opted to eat his bacon in the natural ambience. “Maybe Dave can find the fuckin’ remote.” He said between bites. “Maybe Dave can turn the tele on as well.” he smiled and wiped sauce from his chin.
The TV turned on. Ben dropped his sandwich. “What the…”
The news blurred out its familiar tune. Ben set his plate to one side and stood up quickly to check he hadn’t sat on his remote and accidentally turned it on. “Ok, where are you, fucker?”
Ben spent the next hour in a deranged panic. He pulled the doors off cabinets, ripped out fixtures, tipped his couch over, and flipped his tables. “I’ll find you, son of a bitch.”
He picked up a small stone carving he had been gifted by someone from the office, some local crap from the tat shop. “Let’s see you turn on my TV now.” He threw it at the screen and smashed it. “Abi, turn the tele on.” Ben waited. “Ha! Not so fuckin’ smart are you eh?”
Ben was dripping with sweat and his eyes bulged madly. He picked up his phone and brought up Wayne, pressing the call button. He didn’t care about Wayne's instruction not to call him.
“Hello?”
“Wayne, it’s Ben.”
“I thought I told you–”
“Just shut up a second, what the fuck is going on?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Did they listen to you?”
“Did who?”
“The support sector.”
“Listen, I lost my house and they gave me board that’s it. I told you not to call me again.”
“Why? Because you’re not allowed? Are they listening to you?”
“You’re mental, mate. Get your head checked.”
“Piss off, Wayne. I’m losing it here and no one is speaking a lick of sense, I’m just really alone and pretty scared right now.”
“I understand–”
“Everyone understands but me.”
“I’m blocking you.”
“Wayn–”
The phone went dead. Ben tossed the phone to one side and ran his hands through his matted hair. Ben was driven to find out more about the Support Sectors, the website was generic claptrap and all the new articles had nothing but positive waffle.
He tried a few procured searches but got nothing. His scouring was interrupted by a jingle on his phone. “Text?” he picked up his phone, it was a message from an unknown number. A link to a website. The link was long and made no sense, it looked like a scam but it would be an odd thing to use as a scam attempt. Curiously he tapped the website address carefully into his browser and hit enter.
The screen flickered a few times before displaying a simple website with a black background and white text links. They were just numbers. Everything told Ben not to click on them, but he couldn’t help it. The first link was a video. He pressed play.
The video was dark, too dark. He could hear deep breathing and light sobbing. Then a desperate woman's voice. “They categorised me as obsolete.” she cried, “Stay out of the Support Sectors…stay out.”
Ben’s phone rang which scared the hell out of him. He quickly closed the video and picked up his phone. Dave.
“Hi?”
“Happy Sunday, Dave.”
“You too.”
“Up to anything productive this morning?”
“Oh, eh just browsing the internet.”
“Don’t be messing around on dodgy sites!” He chuckled. “Kidding. I thought I’d give you a quick ring. I’ve pulled up some job searches for you and got you an interview.”
“Oh, nice one.”
“Yeah, should be perfect. I’ll send you the details by email. Have a look, Ben, do a bit of research on the company.”
“Will do.”
“You ok Ben?”
“Fine.”
“Alright, I know you had a long day yesterday.”
“Yeah, am just tired.”
“Enjoy your bacon.”
“Thanks.” Ben glanced at his half-eaten sandwich.
“Bye, Ben.”
“Bye, Dave.”